by Terri Lee
She didn’t divulge how she’d stayed up into the wee hours, trying on the character for size. Reading and rereading certain scenes, allowing the beauty of the words to seep below the skin. Pulse racing, she even scribbled notes in the margins; old habits flooding back, as if they’d been patiently waiting for her. As if.
“Yes.” Monty punched the air with his fist, as if he’d won the argument. “It’s another Oscar, baby. All you have to do is walk in there and claim it.”
“Uh huh.”
Monty ignored her eye-roll, sticking to his own script. “When Frank called me and told me he’d written this for you, I was ecstatic.”
“I didn’t just step off the bus, Monty. I could see someone like Meryl Streep doing this role.”
“Come on. You know Frank. You love him. If he says he wrote this for you and only you, then that’s the truth.”
Natalie shrugged in defeat. “I can’t imagine why.”
“Because Hollywood loves you.”
“Really? Is that what being blacklisted means?”
“The studio only did what it had to do. You know that. Everyone knows where the blame lies. Basically, you got away with a slap on the wrist. They could have done much worse and you know it. They’ve never stopped asking for you to come back.”
“I’ve been gone for too long.” Natalie sighed.
“Nonsense. When you walked into a room, people held their breath for you.”
“That was a long time ago, Monty. Hollywood has changed.”
“Not that much. You’re more gorgeous than ever. You can still put half of Hollywood to shame on your worst day.”
“Have you been drinking already this morning?
“Always. But that doesn’t change the facts.”
“It changes how you see the facts.”
“The fact is, you’re in a league of your own, baby. Look, I’m not talking as your manager, this is your old buddy here, saying, I’d love to see you do what you were born to do. Come back on your own terms.”
“I think you already used that line when you pitched the book idea to me.”
“Well... it’s part of the comeback package.”
“Oh, now we have a package. So, you had this planned all along?”
“Only partially. I’m still fleshing it out.” Monty ducked as a garden glove sailed past his head. “All I know is Frank said I wasn’t to take no for an answer. I won’t let you pass it up. I won’t. This is a dream role.”
“Whose dream?”
“Yours. You’ve just forgotten it.”
Natalie’s long sigh told Monty all he needed to hear. She could see it in his eyes, that he’d heard the word, ‘maybe.’ Or had she said it?
Could I do another movie? Her thoughts tumbled over one another. What if I’ve lost the magic?
Then a familiar itch rolled across her skin. That feeling she got when she was in possession of a great script and the character started whispering to her. Something from deep inside her stepped forward and whispered back; What if I haven’t lost the magic?
51 New York
“What’s this?” Nora asked, nodding at the document on the kitchen table.
“Monty dropped it off, insisting I read it.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “Sometimes it’s just easier to say yes than to continue arguing about it. I can say no later.”
Nora raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to?”
“Going to what?”
“Say no?”
“I’m not sure,” she mumbled.
Natalie wondered if her mother had seen her reading the manuscript, jotting down notes and talking to herself. All the while, a small chorus was chanting in the back of her mind.
Am I really going to do this?
“Something about the way your hand is resting on the pages, as if they already belong to you, makes me think you’re struggling with the decision.” Nora tucked her pink housecoat under her legs as she sat down at the table.
Natalie chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s a beautiful part.”
“You sound like your apologizing for even thinking about it.”
“Now, you sound like Monty.”
“He’s been known to be right a time or two.” Nora winked at her daughter.
“And he’s been known to be wrong.”
“Maybe, but not about your career.”
Nora was right. Monty had a sixth sense about the roles he chose for her. From the moment he pushed her outside her comfort zone, into her first Academy Award, she’d learned to trust his instincts. Now he was pleading with her to trust him again.
“I’m safe here, Monty,” she’d said the night before.
“Too safe.” Monty pounced on her words. “There’s nothing wrong with a little recklessness. What are you afraid of? Failing?”
“No. I don’t think it’s that.” She’d searched for the root of her hesitation. “If I could just ‘act’ without all the sideshow trappings, I’d say yes in a heartbeat. But it’s the press tour, all the interviews, and the prying that has me doubting if I want to wade back into that world.”
The years in Carmel had been peaceful, allowing her anxiety to take a holiday. A book tour was one thing, most of the journalists were from the literary side of the entertainment world, but a press junket for a movie was something else. Still… something was tugging at her sleeve.
“The book will have been out,” Monty said. “Most questions will have already been answered by then. If you don’t want to answer something… just move on. You’re in charge.”
“We’ll see.” She nodded, leaving just enough room for Monty to hope.
She was meeting Robert for dinner. He’d sounded almost giddy when he called last night; and if there was anything that Robert wasn’t… it was giddy. When he said he had something to tell her, it was obvious he could barely contain himself.
She saw him across the restaurant, the napkin falling from his lap as he stood to greet her.
“Hello, beautiful.” Robert kissed her on the cheek.
“You’re positively bursting at the seams.” Natalie couldn’t help smiling at his prep-school boy exuberance. Something wonderful was burning a hole in his pocket.
Champagne had been ordered, the waiter appearing at their little table tucked in the corner as if he’d been on stand-by. Natalie watched the golden bubbles rise to the top of her slim champagne flute, as if they’d already heard the news.
Robert lifted his glass, Natalie matched him in anticipation.
“To New York.” Robert grinned.
“What?” Natalie gasped. “Do you mean—”
“Yes.” Robert couldn’t wait for her to finish the sentence. “Yes. They want my play. I’m going to New York.”
Natalie rose from her seat and went to Robert’s side. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you.” She kissed his grinning mouth. “Of course, they want your play. They’d be crazy not to.”
She returned to her seat and folded the napkin across her lap. “When? Where? Tell me everything.”
Diary of a Madman had been well received at their local theatre, The Playhouse by the Sea, garnering rave reviews from San Francisco critics as well. Natalie watched from the front row on opening night, after spending an exhaustive number of hours behind the scenes, coaching the actors, helping to bring Robert’s vision to life.
The standing ovation was thunderous, but what she remembered most about that night, was Robert’s triumphant smile. He’d taken a dream, wrestled it to the ground, nailed it down on paper, then dressed it up in its Sunday best as a gift to his audience. The love he received in return was their gift to him. A beautiful circle, completed.
“You deserve this, Robert.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“I don’t know about that.” His humble shrug was genuine. She loved that about him.
Over dinner, the rest of the facts tumbled out between the salad and entrée courses. When? Within the month. Where? The Victory Playhouse on Broadway.
<
br /> “Within the month?” Natalie echoed. “Wow. Are you ready for that?”
“I guess I have to be.” He threaded his napkin through restless hands, like a magician who knew his rabbit trick wasn’t going to work.
Living arrangements were mere details to be worked out on the fly. He would rent out his house in Carmel. Find a tiny apartment in Manhattan.
Over dessert, it was Robert’s turn to reach for Natalie’s hand. “We’ve danced around this subject all night.” Deep blue eyes searched her face. “What about us, Nat?”
Natalie looked across the starched white tablecloth. The candlelight softening the frown lines on Robert’s face.
“What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. What about us? Where do we go from here?”
He laid the question on the table, and she couldn’t read the moment.
Us. Is there an, us?
She remembered the night they met at a fund raiser for the Playhouse. Across the room, a tall, slim figure with salt and pepper hair and a crisp blue shirt that played off the deep hue in his eyes, caught her attention. He nodded in her direction. She responded in kind. By the end of the evening they’d abandoned all pretense that they were interested in the party and snuck out the side door to find a little coffee shop where they sipped and talked for hours. It was like connecting with an old friend.
The words I love you, had never been spoken. They just slid into a comfortable rocking chair of a relationship. Each of them retaining their own space and coming together when it suited them. A relationship with no demands and no plans.
Natalie took a deep breath. “This is all so sudden. I mean I knew you were shopping your play, but I guess I never really thought about what would happen if—”
“I know. It still doesn’t seem real to me, either.”
Natalie shifted in her seat, clearing her throat. “To be honest, I don’t believe in long distance relationships.” The last part was delivered with an apologetic shrug.
Robert nodded as if he already knew the answer. “Yeah. I didn’t think so.”
Was that relief on his face?
“Besides, you’ll be so busy with the play…” Natalie let the rest of the words fall away. Both, aware there was no place left for them to go. “This is your time and you should enjoy every minute of it, without worrying about anyone or anything else.”
Later that night when they made love, holding one another in the afterglow, her head on his sleeping shoulder, a sadness wrapped around her bones. A good-bye kind of sadness. They were good together. Easy. Comfortable. She would miss him, but she didn’t love him. Not like that. Not with an, I can’t live without you, kind of passion but a warmth of contented familiarity.
As she laid there in the dark, listening to the soft whiffle of Rob’s snoring on the pillow next to her, she realized she wasn’t ready to give up on that kind of love. Perhaps this was just the kick in the pants she needed.
Monty was right. Again.
52 Reconciliation
“Tell Frank, my answer is yes.”
Natalie held the phone away from her ear as Monty’s whoop carried across the canyons of Los Angeles all the way to Carmel.
Robert’s news the night before was a wake-up call. The excited flush on his cheeks, the grin he couldn’t control were almost tangible. As he talked, she felt herself wanting to reach out and touch it, steal some of it for herself. He was chasing down a dream and she’d forgotten what that felt like. Listening to his words tumbling over themselves in a hurry to tell the story, a little voice pushed against her chest.
Where are my dreams?
Although she cherished her little life here in Carmel, her acting class, and working at the Playhouse, there were still dreams to chase.
It was time to step out on the ledge. Be reckless. Be bold. This was the part of a lifetime. At least, her lifetime. Always a firm believer that opportunities or people come walking through your door when you’re ready to receive them; she was ready for a role like this. A part she wouldn’t have been able to do justice to when she was younger. It had to be now.
She also knew she’d be kicking herself seven ways to Sunday if she watched another actress play the part that was written for her. Although Monty tossed around talk of an Oscar, that was the least of her concerns. The Academy could be a fickle lover, and she never chose a part based upon whether she thought it was Oscar worthy. It was all about the role.
The chance to dig into a character of such depth, in a story wrapped in some of the most beautiful words she’d ever read, was a siren call, she was helpless to resist. She would answer the call and enter in, arms wide open.
Her phone rang off the hook over the next couple of days as details were ironed out. Monty would make the trek back to Carmel next week with contracts in hand. By the time he got back to LA, the rumor mill would already be in full swing. The studio would be the one to do the leaking, shrewdly aware of the buzz that would follow the early news of her long-anticipated comeback.
Ready or not, Hollywood, here I come.
Stan was slumped in the patio chair, head in his hand. He looked wilted, as if no amount of water would bring him back to life. They’d spent the last couple of hours talking about Tess, wrestling with the, why, of it all.
“Are you feeling alright?” Natalie asked as she handed off an iced tea.
“Oh yeah, sure.” He sat up straighter and tossed her a phony smile.
The eight-year age difference between them had become a chasm since the last time she’d seen him. Fifty-nine was settling into the creases on his forehead and with the afternoon sun on his face he was suddenly old.
Stan shaded his eyes and looked Natalie up and down. “You look great, despite everything with Tess. It’s good to see you happy.”
“Thank you. I am happy.” She didn’t intend to divulge any of her news, just yet. Besides nothing was official until contracts had been signed. She was doing her best to keep the lid on her fresh joy, and if Stan noticed that she was floating several inches off the ground, he didn’t necessarily need to know the reason why. Now if only they could reel Tess back from the edge, she could fully embrace the moment.
“How about you, Stan? Are you happy?”
Stanley frowned. “Whatever happy looks like for me.”
Natalie wasn’t used to this level of introspection from the man who always had everything under control. “How’s Gloria?” she asked, not because she cared, but because she thought it best to change the subject.
Stan shook his head. “She wants a baby.”
“Whoa.” Natalie almost spit tea down the front of her shirt.
“Yeah,” Stan stared into space, the sag of his shoulders sending the message he was already defeated. “What in the hell am I going to do with a baby?”
Natalie hid her grin behind her hand. “That kind of goes with the territory when you marry a thirty-year-old doesn’t it?”
“Does it?” Stan turned to look at his ex-wife, eyebrows arched in disbelief. “She never mentioned kids before we got married.”
“Did you ask?”
“God no. Why would I want to open that up for discussion?”
“Oh Stanley…” Natalie’s sigh landed on the sunbaked pavers between them. “You’re lucky you’ve gotten away with not having any other kids before this.”
“Tell me about it.” He turned in his seat to get a better look at Natalie. “But I can’t help thinking, maybe I’m being given a second chance at being a good father.”
Natalie stared back, wordlessly.
“Tess and I have been estranged for so long now. The only time we talk is when she needs money. I’m not blaming you,” Stan interjected. “We were estranged before you left for Rome, before the divorce. I know I’ve fucked up royally with Tess. It’s all my fault, of course.”
“Don’t worry about who’s to blame. You’re the grown-up. You’re the one who must keep reaching out. Don’t let the years pass by. My dad is gone, t
here are no more chances for us.”
“You’re right.”
“Just keep knocking on that door. Eventually you’ll break through.” She reached across the space between them and touched his hand. “There’s plenty of guilt to go around when it comes to Tess. I have my own regrets.”
After all the heartache and destruction, both personally and financially it had been hard to forgive the man at the center of it all. But he was Tess’s father and right or wrong, they were partners in a production they’d signed onto years ago.
It was at Tess’s sixteenth birthday party, when Stan pulled her aside after a few minutes of polite conversation. “I’ve been meaning to say this for some time.” He cleared his throat. “I’m truly sorry, Nat. Sorry for all of it. And that apology goes back as far as you need it to.” His gray eyes were watery and the drink in his hand shook slightly. “I hope one day, for Tess’s sake, you can forgive me.”
Natalie felt as if she was standing outside herself, watching an interaction, she never thought she’d have, but she wasn’t so hardened that she couldn’t sense a genuine mea culpa when she heard one.
They’d never managed more than two-minute conversations since the divorce. And even that insignificant amount was difficult for Natalie. The space Tess occupied between them resembled the Korean Demilitarized Zone. The hand off, conducted with quiet diplomacy. A terse nod of the head, a wasted insincere smile for the sake of their daughter.
Over the years, Natalie watched a bright and bubbly girl turn increasingly inward. Closing doors that would take years to open again. Although Natalie bit her tongue, doing her best to set aside animosity for the father of her daughter… the truth spilled out. What seeped through the cracks was toxic.
Natalie looked at the man she’d once shared a life with, and for the first time realized that Stan had scars of his own. None of them survived unscathed. The divorce drama flashed before her eyes, only this time she was on the opposite side of the table. Would she have handled things differently if the headlines had raged about the state of Stanley’s mental health? In possession of such information, was he wrong to seek sole custody?